Pretender's Quest 2
by BuffyAngel68
Summary: The system refused to correctly format my revision of the third chapter, no matter what I tried, so I give up! I am updating this story only on the new WWOMB auto-archive. You'll find it and future parts there from now on. Thanks for the support ya'll!
1. Default Chapter

P.Q. 2 -- Chap 3  
  
8:00 A.M.  
  
"Mac, sit down and eat."  
  
"I can't. Any food I put in me right now would find it's way back out again just as fast."  
  
"Then just sit. Pacing a groove in your floor is an expensive way to express anxiety."  
  
Reluctantly, Mac acquiesced.  
  
"It's better than repressing it."  
  
"Is that what you think I'm doing?"  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"No. I'm doing what I was taught to do. Perform the required task without questioning the outcome." Jarod explained. "If I let myself worry about all the things that could go wrong with this plan, at least one of those concerns would become reality. Probably more than one. I have to focus only on the next step. That's how you ensure the least chance of mistakes."  
  
Mac's own apprehension abruptly faded, to be replaced by concern for Jarod. He was certain the younger man had no idea how much like an automaton he'd sounded.  
  
"That little speech... they weren't your words. It didn't even sound like you."  
  
"Mac..."  
  
"No. If you could've heard yourself you'd be shaking like a damn leaf about now. Do you even remember what you said?"  
  
"I was sitting right beside you and my hearing is perfect."  
  
Mac studied Jarod for a few tense seconds before he replied.  
  
"That piece of paper you had me working from last night? I kept it and I did a little more practice with it before I went to bed. I haven't sorted out everything I saw yet... but I will. Maybe then you'll finally be ready to talk."  
  
As MacGyver stalked upstairs to shower and dress, Jarod hunched over his cup of decaf and pondered the implications of allowing something with such an intimate connection to his past to stay in the hands of a man with incredible insight and a gift with the potential to be stronger than his own.  
  
ONE HOUR LATER  
  
"Mac! You ready to go?" Jarod shouted up the stairs  
  
Mac thumped down the stairs perfectly attired in his best, and only, suit.  
  
"I'm set. Let's move." Mac replied woodenly, refusing to look at Jarod.  
  
"Look... I'm sorry. It's not something I can just talk about on the spur of the moment. I was an abused child to the n-th power.... people who grew up in normal homes with loving families just don't have the capacity to understand."  
  
Mac's stiff expression softened.  
  
"Then why show me that paper at all?"  
  
"You had to know what they're capable of. I had to make you see that they'll come for you too if they learn that you exist. Once they notice you, there's no going back to a normal life. You'll be watched and followed..."  
  
"Kyle, why don't you just ask? I like the concept and from what your e-mail buddy said it sounds like something I wanna be involved in...."  
  
"Mac... I've been able to stay on the run because I'm constantly cutting ties to anyone and anything I care about. You have a life here, a job.... a history. A few days and some sketchy details about what I'm trying to create aren't enough for you to know whether you're ready to risk your life and your freedom for me. For now... we have a job in front of us. Let's get Santos taken care of before we talk about my network or anything else. Alright?"  
  
"Okay, but you should understand something. I'm no stranger to living with a flashing red bulls-eye on my back. All the years I spent with the Phoenix Foundation..."  
  
"I know. I know about almost all of it. We'll talk about that later, I promise. Now let's get going. We can't be late for this appointment." Jarod said, turning and striding toward the door. Mac sighed, shook his head and followed.

SANTOS' OFFICE

"You're doing great." Jarod assured MacGyver as they sat in the outer office, waiting to be admitted to Santos' inner sanctum. Though his mentor had said more than once that he was nervous, that he'd be worried if those feelings weren't present, Mac never would have believed it just from looking at the other man.  
  
"Great. Yeah, right. I've got so many butterflies my stomach's about to fly away under its own power!" Mac whispered harshly.  
  
"Just relax. Remember what we talked about on the way here." Jarod murmured in response.  
  
"Appearance is everything. If they think you are, you are. Getting upset or angry won't get me what I want and it will get me killed."  
  
"Perfect."  
  
"Gentlemen? Mr. Santos will see you now."  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"Oui. Il payera qu'il est fait." (He'll pay for what he's done.)  
  
"Oui, il fera, mon ami. Oui, il fera." (Yes he will, my friend. Yes he will.)  
  
Smiling, the two men stood and followed the secretary down a narrow corridor and into a large, luxurious office. Jarod strolled right in, but Mac fell a step behind, faltering as he moved through the door. Believing that, after his many attempts to gain a Swiss bank account, Santos spoke the language fluently, Jarod spoke to MacGyver in German. After catching his breath, Mac responded easily.  
  
"Sind sie in ordnung?" (Are you alright?)  
  
"Ich bin fein jetzt. Ich kann es nicht erklären. Wir werden später reden." (I'm fine now. I can't explain it. We'll talk later.)  
  
Confused, Santos stood and addressed his visitors cautiously  
  
"Gentlemen. Welcome.... I think. You are Henri Michel?"  
  
Mac leaned in and whispered in Jarod's ear. The younger man delivered the message to Santos.  
  
"Mesr. Michel extends his apologies if you were confused. As an attaché he speaks many languages. He often switches into something other than French when he does not wish his words to be understood by others."  
  
"I see. Please, take seats gentlemen and we can get the interview started."  
  
Once all the participants were settled, Mac went through the whisper routine again.  
  
"My employer asks if you speak French. Being fairly new to his position, English is one language he is not yet fluent in and he prefers to avoid possible misunderstandings..."  
  
"I'm happy to accommodate the attaché. Whatever will make him comfortable."  
  
"We can proceed, then. Merci."  
  
" Bien sûr. Maintenant s'il vous plaît, demander vos questions.... " (Of course. Now please, ask your questions....)  
  
THIRTY MINUTES LATER  
  
As the two friends dropped off the rented limo and climbed back into Mac's jeep, Jarod was forced to postpone their departure in order to calm MacGyver, who was curled into himself and shaking like a leaf. For several minutes, Jarod patted and rubbed his friend's shoulders, but despite the comfort being provided Mac leapt from the vehicle, ran to the edge of the parking lot and vomited into the dirt and scrub grass. Jarod crouched beside him, supporting the other man and speaking soothingly.  
  
"You did fine, Mac. It's over now. You're okay...."  
  
"No... I mean... I am. It's not that.... God, what have you done to me...."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"What you've been showing me.... it must've opened me up.... more than either of us knew. Walking into that room.... I... I've never felt anything like that before. It hit me like a... a punch in the gut. There was a smell... almost like a natural gas leak... but nastier. I was nauseous the whole time we were in there. I don't know if I can stand to go back into that office, Kyle... you didn't tell me this was part of... of being a Pretender...."  
  
"It isn't. At least... it never has been for me. I'm sorry, MacGyver. If I'd known I never would have put you in that situation."  
  
"You couldn't have predicted that, Kyle. Don't beat yourself up, okay?" Mac replied, slowly straightening up. As he helped him back to the jeep, Jarod continued to apologize.  
  
"I should have known. Your gift is stronger than mine. If I had taken the time to think it through, I would have realized a stronger gift means greater sensitivity...."  
  
"Kyle... stop. It wasn't your fault. Let's just go back to the house. I'm gettin' better, but being further from Santos will speed the process even more. Man, my mouth tastes like I've been licking a sewer outflow pipe. Let's stop somewhere for a bottle of water before we get home."  
  
"No problem." Jarod told him, starting the engine and pulling out of the lot.

THE HOUSE

"Mac, that's your second beer in less than an hour. Slow down."  
  
"It is? Damn... " MacGyver murmured, staring fixedly at the empty bottle in his hand before placing it carefully on the breakfast bar. "I don't do that.... it's just I can't make sense of this. I'm used to being able to see the patterns, the shapes that make things work. Then I can get behind or underneath.... figure it from the inside out. There is no pattern here. There's nothing I can get a handle on...."  
  
Gently, Jarod dropped his hands on Mac's shoulders and squeezed.  
  
"I know. Go sit on the couch, alright? I have something that might help you calm down."  
  
"I don't need to calm down. I need to understand...."  
  
"No, right now you need the de-stress. Go sit."  
  
MacGyver conceded the battle, walked across the room and dropped heavily onto the sofa. Jarod was back in a few minutes with a small gray leather case. Sitting beside Mac, he opened the holder to reveal a series of small vials, each tucked into their own pouch. Selecting one, he popped the cover with a thumbnail and handed it to his friend. "Hold it close to your face and take three slow, deep breaths through your nose."  
  
"Aromatherapy? You've got to be joking..."  
  
"Trust me, this worked wonders on someone a lot more wound up than you are."  
  
His expression radiating disbelief, Mac took the vial carefully and did as Jarod had instructed. The first breath didn't bring any noticeable shift in his body or mind, but with the second inhalation he could feel his muscles begin to loosen and his stomach settle into a more normal state. By the time he'd released his third deep draught of air, Mac was sinking back against the couch cushions, eyes closed and his brow clear of stress lines.  
  
"Wow.... if I ever doubt you again, you have permission to smack me in the back of the head. Really hard." He replied, handing the vial back.  
  
"Not necessary. Why risk your incredible mind? I'll just force-feed you a pint of "Hagen-Dazs"." Jarod chuckled.  
  
"Deal. What other magic have you got in there, anyway?"  
  
"Formulas for reducing physical pain, relieving mild depression, increasing energy...."  
  
"Where'd you ever find them?"  
  
"I didn't. A friend taught me about herbs and showed me how to create my own blends."  
  
"Boy, he taught you well."  
  
"He'd be glad to hear that. Now, how's your thinking? Any clearer?"  
  
"Yeah, it is. Amazing...."  
  
"Then let's start talking about what happened to you today."  
  
"Okay...."

THE CENTRE

"Miss Parker."  
  
The young woman's shoulders and neck instantly knotted when the hated voice sounded behind her. Stopping in the middle of the corridor, she turned on her heel, schooling her expression into a picture of calm and respect before she faced her new employer.  
  
"Major Hilliard. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Your job. I need to see progress in the search for our missing property and I need to see it soon. The Triumverate won't be patient much longer."  
  
"Jarod has completely dropped out of sight, sir. The only way we were ever able to track him at all was by virtue of the clues and items he sent and the media reports of his Pretends. He hasn't done either one in months..."  
  
"That makes your job a little harder, but it doesn't make it impossible. Step up your game to the next level, Miss Parker, or you'll find yourself off this pursuit altogether. Losing that prestige would leave you very... vulnerable within the Centre. That's a state you do not want to find yourself in. Do we understand each other?"  
  
"Yes... sir."  
  
"I hope so. Get back to work."  
  
Seething, shocked that steam had not begun pouring from her ears, Parker waited until she was sure Hilliard was out of earshot before she allowed herself to release a little of her rage, though it only showed in her face and in the hard slap she delivered to the nearest wall.  
  
{Property?! He's not a stapler somebody took home in their briefcase, you son of a bitch.... oh, if I could have blown you away and gotten by with it, you'd have been dead weeks ago....}  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% 


	2. Chapter 2

P.Q: Part 2 continued (Just to show I do my research, the name and age on the paper belong to a real survivor. The rest is artistic license.) %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"I know it isn't easy. Try one more time, then we'll quit for a while."  
  
"Not easy. So says the man with the I.Q. advantage. I don't know if I can do this, Kyle. I'm not you."  
  
"Noone said you had to be. I.Q. has nothing to do with why you're struggling. We all have gifts. We don't choose them, but we can choose how they're used. You have your own unique set of gifts."  
  
"Yeah, well right now I don't exactly feel like the birthday boy."  
  
"That's the frustration talking."  
  
"And pretty loudly too."  
  
"Okay. Stop for a minute. I don't understand why you're deliberately not using every tool you have, here. You'd succeed in a second if you did."  
  
"Care to elaborate?"  
  
"Repeat what you told me this morning about why you were so useful to the Phoenix Foundation."  
  
"Huh? Well.... I see things differently than everybody else. I can look at a pile of random items and right off the bat I know ten cool things that can by made by putting them together in different ways."  
  
"And you said that being able to see like that has saved your life countless times."  
  
"Yeah. More times than I like to think about."  
  
"That's gift one. This ability; it wouldn't work too well without the benefit of a pretty extensive imagination, would it?"  
  
"No. I guess not."  
  
"Gift 2. An imagination like that is a good indicator of an open mind and a curious nature, right?"  
  
"Riggght....."  
  
"Gifts three and four. Do I need to go on?"  
  
Meeting Jarod's eyes, Mac suddenly laughed.  
  
"Please, no. I get it, I get it."  
  
"Good. Now start putting your gifts to work and let's try this again. See it as if you're there. Where are you? What are the conditions like? How does the surface under your hands feel; under your feet?"  
  
Mac hesitated for a long stretch of seconds, but eventually he shut his eyes and began another attempt at the elementary simulation Jarod was guiding him through.  
  
"It.... it feels smooth.... it's natural....not like steel.... wooden."  
  
"Go on. Involve your other senses. Don't think about it too much. Feel... sense..."  
  
"I'm... I'm in motion.... it feels choppy.... violent.... I'm really cold.... wet and cold.... the same as all the others crowded in around me.... I don't want to be here.... or anywhere. I'm...."  
  
"What? Go ahead. Just say it, whatever it is."  
  
"I'm angry that they pulled me out of the water. I left her back there.... without her my life isn't worth living.... I try to jump out... to swim back to be with her... I'm screaming her name into the darkness.... but someone grabs me around the waist and stops me.... keeps me in the boat...."  
  
Abruptly, MacGyver's eyes popped open. "That's impossible. It can't be.... Wow. I guess I do have a vivid imagination."  
  
"What did you see?"  
  
"It's ridiculous. I can't...."  
  
"Just tell me. Then we'll see how ridiculous it is."  
  
"Okay. You asked for it. I was... seeing through someone else's eyes.... watching a... No. This is silly. Whatever I thought I saw it wasn't real...."  
  
"Mac. You said you'd trust me to show this to you. Was that a lie?"  
  
"No, of course not, but..."  
  
"Alright then. Tell me."  
  
Mac shot Jarod a highly critical, skeptical glance, then did as he'd been asked.  
  
"It was just like in the movie. The ship broke in half.... then it sank... it was so slow... I had no idea death could be that slow.... and painful..... if the night hadn't been so still we..... the screams wouldn't have seemed so loud..."  
  
Solemnly, Jarod handed Mac a folded paper with a name written on it; the name on which the sim had been based. He had never been able to sim anything so clearly with so little information and had to repress a twinge of jealousy before he could speak again.  
  
"Open the paper and read what's written inside out loud."  
  
"Robert Williams Daniel, age 27, survivor of the tragedy that befell the great ship.... Titanic. You're not serious."  
  
"That comes directly from the Encyclopedia Titanica website. You can check it yourself if you want to."  
  
"No.... not necessary. I.... I need a beer."  
  
"I'll get one for both of us." Jarod offered, moving to the fridge and returning with two lightly sweating bottles in one hand. Despite his words, he sensed that MacGyver would indeed check out the information for himself and said something to that effect as he dropped back to the couch.  
  
"Uh-uh. You're right. It's... it's a matter of trust."  
  
"It wouldn't bother me if you did. I even bookmarked the site on my laptop."  
  
"Yeah? Okay. I might... so that's what you did for most of the first half of your life."  
  
"Eighty percent of it, yes. The rest.... I don't talk about."  
  
"Worse?"  
  
"Much. Even within the time I spent on simulations like the one you just did.... there were nasty moments; secrets I uncovered. Actually, if I was to be completely honest I can't do exactly what you did."  
  
"What? I don't understand."  
  
"I usually require a lot more background to start with. To get such a clear sim off nothing but a name..... that's extraordinary. Gift number five, I'd say." His eyes on his beer bottle, Jarod rose and walked toward the kitchen. Mac followed.  
  
"Wait. You look upset. Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No. You did just fine. Better than I could have, which is what's disturbing me, I think. I've never been out done by anyone who wasn't..... me. It's okay. What do you feel like for lunch?"  
  
"Anything simple. Sandwiches'll be fine. You sure you're okay? I didn't mean..."  
  
"I'm fine. Jealousy just isn't something I'm used to feeling. I'll get over it. You can't change what your gifts are, Mac. Never feel ashamed of them, never apologize for them and never let someone talk you out of their worth to you and the rest of the world. So. What's your reaction to what you just did? Honestly. No false modesty or hemming and hawing."  
  
"I... I didn't think I'd be able to do it at first. That little lesson about my gifts opened up my mind just enough.... That really was intense. Intense and fascinating. So there was a reason for showing me that, right?"  
  
"Absolutely. You're going to need all the skills you can put your hands on when we step into Jorge Santos' world. We both will." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"You said you could. Quit with the self-deprecation and show me."  
  
"You really think I'll need it? I feel like an idiot."  
  
"It's the final element of your part of the plan. Do it. I swear I won't laugh. I won't even giggle."  
  
"Et, exactment, que est-ce que vous voulez me dire?" (And what, exactly, do you want me to say?)  
  
Jarod grinned powerfully at his new friend and scam partner.  
  
"That will do just fine. The accent is nearly perfect. Any others?"  
  
"Wurden sie Deutsch bevorzugen, Italiano o Espa?ol?" (Would you prefer German, Italian or Spanish?)  
  
If possible, Jarod's smile widened.  
  
"Excellent. You're fantastic. Between the two of us Jorge Santos will never know what hit him until he's on the floor in handcuffs."  
  
"I hope to hell you're right. I'm only gonna ask you for one thing."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Keep me from killing him. I don't need that on my conscience, Kyle. I really don't. If he's his usual arrogant, self-righteous.... I don't know how I'll handle it. Just... keep an eye on me, okay?"  
  
"I promise."  
  
Though the recognition flickered through Jarod's eyes in less than a second, Mac caught it.  
  
"You must know someone who fits that description."  
  
"More than one someone.... and too well."  
  
"The place you grew up?"  
  
"Yes." Jarod replied, studying the screen of his now open laptop with an intensity that let Mac know the subject had once again been tabled. ""Well, I think you're as ready as you can ever be."  
  
"So what was the thing with the languages all about?"  
  
"According to my research, practically the only thing Santos wants that he doesn't already have is a Swiss bank account. Apparently he's tried several times and been refused. I'm not sure why. It could be his profile just isn't high enough. He only seems to have influence here in Minnesota and in a couple surrounding states. Not that it isn't beautiful and wonderful here, but New York or Las Vegas it isn't."  
  
"And thank God for that. So? Lay on, MacDuff."  
  
"You are about to become Henri Michel, an attaché of the Swiss government, here to drum up U.S. business contacts."  
  
"And you, I assume, will be my faithful toady and interpreter?"  
  
"I see. One success with a simulation and he's insulting his teacher. That can lead you into dangerous territory, my friend."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"  
  
"Like not getting any of what I bought for dinner tonight."  
  
"You mean the stuff you wouldn't show me earlier? Is that why you wouldn't let me near the fridge all day?"  
  
"I mean, if you don't want the braised lamb shanks in marsala wine with lightly steamed baby vegetables that I was planning on, you don't have to have any. I don't even have to make it. It is a lot of work and I'd really be just as happy with a ham sandwich and a beer...."  
  
"Ham sandwich my butt! You're not getting away with working me like a dog all day just to feed me a ham sandwich! I'll make the lamb if you won't!"  
  
A thoroughly evil grin plastered on his face, Jarod finally shut down his computer and turned to face MacGyver.  
  
"You can help. Will that do?"  
  
"Better than nothing. Let's get to work. I'm starving!" %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"That was incredible. You are a master chef." Mac exclaimed, cleaning his spoon of the last traces of chocolate mousse he could find.  
  
"Well, thank you."  
  
"You cooked, I'll do dishes."  
  
"You wash, I'll dry?"  
  
"Got it. So. You really think we're ready?"  
  
"As much as we can be. I'll call and make an appointment with Santos' secretary tomorrow. Depending on his schedule it may take a day or two to get in to see him, but once we're in... that's when the fun and fireworks will really start."  
  
"He shouldn't be able to resist what we're offering him. I hope not. I want him to go down so bad..."  
  
"I know, but.... one more lesson?"  
  
"Absolutely. As tired as I am, I may not absorb it completely, but go ahead."  
  
Turning from the sink, Jarod tugged the dish Mac was drying out of his hands and set it in the drainer.  
  
"Look at me. You need to hear this; hear and understand it. I've spent five years seeking vengeance. It's like a narcotic. All it takes is one hit... and you're lost to it. Nothing else exists but the opportunity to make someone pay, first for your pain, then everyone else's. It's taken me all this time, and the help of a very special friend, to realize that revenge isn't as noble as it sounds. I'm willing to help you do this, but not if revenge is the only thing on your mind."  
  
"He killed my best friend and my surrogate father. If I'm not allowed to want revenge...."  
  
"Justice, Mac. There is a difference. If you go in there not understanding that difference, your anger will take over, you'll make a wrong move and we'll both end up dead."  
  
"That's the last thing I want. I'm trying to stay controlled..... the anger's fighting back."  
  
"I know. I think it's coming out of your grief. It's only been a few days since you lost the two most important people in your life. Take a drive, find a quiet, private place and try to work through some of it. It's vital to the success of what we're trying to accomplish. You have to be calm and focused."  
  
"Work through it? How? I can't.... I don't have the first clue...."  
  
"Is there somewhere you go, somewhere that's yours alone?"  
  
"Yeah. I haven't been there since.... in a long time."  
  
"Go there. Go to this place, wherever it is, and do what you have to, what you can't do with other people around. Scream, cry, rage, whatever it is and however long it takes. Then you'll be ready to face down Santos."  
  
"You're talking from experience."  
  
"Yes. Unfortunately, I almost waited too long. By the time I realized I needed to purge myself of the pain and the anger, their hold was so strong.... I came very close to losing that battle. Looking back on those few days I can see how difficult it was, but the irony... it makes me want to laugh. I escaped from hell, from the prison I'd lived in nearly all my life, only to find I had to esacpe from a locked cell of my own making a year later."  
  
Jarod stole a glance at Mac to find that his student was drowsing faintly. "Apologies. I tend to reminisce a little too easily these days. What I'm saying is, don't wait. I know you can't get it all out in a few hours, but you can rid yourself of enough hurt and rage to let you concentrate."  
  
"Not tonight. I'm too tired to drive. I'd wreck the Jeep for sure."  
  
"Tomorrow then. Like I said, we probably have a day or two before we can get in to see Santos. You have time."  
  
"Maybe.... I don't like leaving you here alone. It just seems... rude."  
  
"Trust me," Jarod chuckled. "I have my own work to finish. I won't be bored, I guarantee that. I don't mind being alone. I spent twenty eight years surrounded by people every minute of every day. Solitude is a friend."  
  
"What if it doesn't work?"  
  
"Then we'll try something else. It's necessary, Mac. You have to try, for yourself if for no other reason."  
  
"I guess. Okay. I'll probably be out early in the morning and I may or may not be home by lunch."  
  
"However long it takes. Get some sleep. We'll both be needing all our energy and resources soon." %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% 1:OO P.M THE NEXT DAY  
  
"Yes. Good afternoon. Am I speaking to a representative of Jorgé Santos? I am? Wonderful. I am the personal assistant to Henri Michel, an attaché for the Swiss Embassy in Washington. The city, not the state, that is correct. My employer and I will be in your area over the next few days touring and conducting interviews with several local businesses that he feels might benefit from an association with.... you would? How kind of you.... Oh, he will? Marvelous. Tomorrow morning at ten. Of course. Delighted. Farewell."  
  
MacGyver entered the house in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.  
  
"Is that success I hear?"  
  
"Indeed it is. According to his secretary, he'll do handsprings when she tells him we may be interested in his company."  
  
"That's what we wanted. It's our way in."  
  
"And Santos' first step toward prison. How did your morning go?"  
  
"You were right."  
  
"It worked then?"  
  
"Like a charm, but I meant you were right about not getting it all out. Once this is over, I plan to go back and spend a week or two.... rid myself of the rest of this... darkness." Mac explained, moving to drop wearily onto the couch.  
  
"That's a really good idea."  
  
Strolling to the refrigerator, Jarod pulled out two bottles of beer, opened them and walked one back to Mac, sitting beside him. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Stronger. More focused. I felt them with with me this morning.... Pete and Jack. It was so strong..... a couple times I almost said something to one or the other. Stupid, I know...."  
  
"Of course it isn't stupid. Human beings are energy. The more time you spend with someone, the more your energies mix. They become part of you. When it's someone especially close, that piece of their energy stays with you forever. Even if they die, it never leaves you. You weren't imagining that you could feel your friends. They really were there."  
  
After a long moment spent contemplating his beer, Mac tilted it and clinked Jarod's bottle in a toast.  
  
"To justice. Justice for Pete and Jack."  
  
"To justice for all those who seek it, wherever, whenever. May they all find a hero."  
  
"Yeah. I can deal with that. Tomorrow. I've been dreamin' of this for weeks.... now it's tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow is only the start."  
  
"Hopefully, for him it will never end."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean? You said you were a hundred percent sure we could do this. What changed?"  
  
"Not a thing. I'm just acknowledging the existence of the unforeseen and the need to be.... adaptable. There was a time when I didn't. That lack of flexibility almost got me killed once or twice and it *has* gotten me caught."  
  
"Most people put the worse option second."  
  
"I did."  
  
"This place.... the Centre. It's that bad?"  
  
"Worse. I said we'd discuss that later. Let's do some more simulation work."  
  
"Really? I'm in. Let's go."  
  
"You sound eager to try it again. That's a far cry from yesterday."  
  
"Yeah, well after I went to bed last night... I couldn't sleep. I did some heavy thinking. At first the idea of having a gift like this, one I wasn't even aware of, frightened me a little. But the more I went over it in my head, the more my curiosity chimed in. I want to know as much as I can about using this ability to make positive changes in the world. I need to know."  
  
"I can't tell you everything. We both have to be very careful. This talent, being able to do what's called Pretending, puts you in danger from the same people who are hunting me. I'll give you what I can, but...."  
  
"Hang on. You friend Jim said that they only take children."  
  
"They take whatever they want. If it will expand their sphere of influence and strengthen their power base it's up for grabs. Once they decide you belong to them.... you might as well be a rug or a floor lamp. You'd get more respect and consideration if you were."  
  
"That... that's slavery."  
  
"Oh, no. I could have accepted slavery. Slavery would have been paradise compared to my life."  
  
"I'm trying to understand. I just don't have a frame of reference..."  
  
"Just trust me, please? Trust what I'm telling you.With me so out of touch lately, they have to be getting worried. If they had the chance to get their hands on a natural Pretender who already understands how to use his power... they wouldn't hesitate to take you."  
  
"I can defend myself, Kyle. I'm not helpless, you know."  
  
"You're not hearing me. You could be Bruce Lee, it wouldn't make a difference. You'd be here one moment and gone the next and you wouldn't have a chance in hell of saving yourself..."  
  
Jarod let his words fade out. He knew that lectures and warnings would do no good, but the idea he'd just concieved might. For a long time he sat very still, coming at the thought from every possible angle. Once he was certain that there was no legitimate reason not to pursue it, he lifted his backpack from its position at the side of the sofa and extracted a pad of paper. He quickly scribbled a few words on the top sheet, tore it off, carefully folded it and handed it to Mac.  
  
"Here. Do the same thing you did yesterday. Think about your gifts.... open your mind. Don't force it. Relax and allow the information to come to you. Start when you're ready."  
  
"It's dark.... and quiet. I can hear crickets, though..... and a dog barking, way off in the distance. No cars or people.... I like it out here in the country. It's peaceful. Easy to sleep."  
  
Abruptly, Mac jumped and his breathing became harsh and rapid.  
  
"What is it? What's happening?"  
  
"I don't know.... there was... a sound.... can't be momma or daddy.... they're asleep an' they never wake up in the night.... who are you? Who's in my room.... Momma! Daddy, help! Momma..... I'm really scared.... and confused.... they put something dark on my face... I can't see! They're taking me outside.... making me get in a car.... What did I do? I wasn't bad.... I didn't do bad things! Brother said they'd only take me away if I was bad.... Don't take me away! Momma!"  
  
Flinging the paper away from him as if touching it were making him ill, MacGyver stumbled away from Jarod, finally groping his way onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Jarod picked up the note and slowly returned it and the half empty beer to his friend.  
  
"Open it and read what it says."  
  
"I can't.... get it away from me." Mac pleaded, snatching the bottle and draining it in a few swallows.  
  
"This isn't optional. You said you needed a frame of reference. Read."  
  
Eventually, the older man accepted the paper and unfolded it.  
  
"Jarod, age four, the night of his abduction. Who is this?"  
  
"The Centre's greatest accomplishment.... and one of many shamelessly abused and exploited victims. I'm sorry, Mac, but you had to see... had to understand what they're capable of. That isn't even the tiniest part.... When I said we need to be careful.... I meant it."  
  
"That was you. I can see in your eyes.... I felt.... It was, wasn't it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"It's okay. I'm the last one who'd ever rat you out...."  
  
"The subject isn't up for discussion. I haven't eaten much today. I think I'll go for a drive.... maybe pick up some dinner later. Can I bring you back something?"  
  
"I'm good."  
  
"Okay. I'll see you in a couple hours."  
  
"Yeah... see you then."  
  
Jarod grabbed his keys and strode out the door, leaving the note on the bar. MacGyver glanced at it one more time before refolding it and slipping it into his pocket. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
TBC...... 


	3. Chapter 3

P.Q. 2 -- Chap 3

8:00 A.M.

"Mac, sit down and eat."

"I can't. Any food I put in me right now would find it's way back out again just as fast."

"Then just sit. Pacing a groove in your floor is an expensive way to express anxiety."

Reluctantly, Mac acquiesced.

"It's better than repressing it."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Aren't you?"

"No. I'm doing what I was taught to do. Perform the required task without questioning the outcome." Jarod explained. "If I let myself worry about all the things that could go wrong with this plan, at least one of those concerns would become reality. Probably more than one. I have to focus only on the next step. That's how you ensure the least chance of mistakes."

Mac's own apprehension abruptly faded, to be replaced by concern for Jarod. He was certain the younger man had no idea how much like an automaton he'd sounded.

"That little speech... they weren't your words. It didn't even sound like you."

"Mac..."

"No. If you could've heard yourself you'd be shaking like a damn leaf about now. Do you even remember what you said?"

"I was sitting right beside you and my hearing is perfect."

Mac studied Jarod for a few tense seconds before he replied.

"That piece of paper you had me working from last night? I kept it and I did a

little more practice with it before I went to bed. I haven't sorted out everything I saw yet... but I will. Maybe then you'll finally be ready to talk."

As MacGyver stalked upstairs to shower and dress, Jarod hunched over his cup of decaf and pondered the implications of allowing something with such an intimate connection to his past to stay in the hands of a man with incredible insight and a gift with the potential to be stronger than his own.

ONE HOUR LATER

"Mac! You ready to go?" Jarod shouted up the stairs

Mac thumped down the stairs perfectly attired in his best, and only, suit.

"I'm set. Let's move." Mac replied woodenly, refusing to look at Jarod.

"Look... I'm sorry. It's not something I can just talk about on the spur of the moment. I was an abused child to the n-th power.... people who grew up in normal homes with loving families just don't have the capacity to understand."

Mac's stiff expression softened.

"Then why show me that paper at all?"

"You had to know what they're capable of. I had to make you see that they'll come for you too if they learn that you exist. Once they notice you, there's no going back to a normal life. You'll be watched and followed..."

"Kyle, why don't you just ask? I like the concept and from what your e-mail buddy said it sounds like something I wanna be involved in...."

"Mac... I've been able to stay on the run because I'm constantly cutting ties to anyone and anything I care about. You have a life here, a job.... a history. A few days and some sketchy details about what I'm trying to create aren't enough for you to know whether you're ready to risk your life and your freedom for me. For now... we have a job in front of us. Let's get Santos taken care of before we talk about my network or anything else. Alright?"

"Okay, but you should understand something. I'm no stranger to living with a flashing red bulls-eye on my back. All the years I spent with the Phoenix Foundation..."

"I know. I know about almost all of it. We'll talk about that later, I promise. Now let's get going. We can't be late for this appointment." Jarod said, turning and striding toward the door. Mac sighed, shook his head and followed.

"You're doing great." Jarod assured MacGyver as they sat in the outer office, waiting to be admitted to Santos' inner sanctum. Though his mentor had said more than once that he was nervous, that he'd be worried if those feelings weren't present, Mac never would have believed it just from looking at the other man.

"Great. Yeah, right. I've got so many butterflies my stomach's about to fly away under its own power!" Mac whispered harshly.

"Just relax. Remember what we talked about on the way here." Jarod murmured in response.

"Appearance is everything. If they think you are, you are. Getting upset or angry won't get me what I want and it will get me killed."

"Perfect."

"Gentlemen? Mr. Santos will see you now."

"Ready?"

"Oui. Il payera qu'il est fait." (He'll pay for what he's done.)

"Oui, il fera, mon ami. Oui, il fera." (Yes he will, my friend. Yes he will.)

Smiling, the two men stood and followed the secretary down a narrow corridor and into a large, luxurious office. Jarod strolled right in, but Mac fell a step behind, faltering as he moved through the door. Believing that, after his many attempts to gain a Swiss bank account, Santos spoke the language fluently, Jarod spoke to MacGyver in German. After catching his breath, Mac responded easily.

"Sind sie in ordnung?" (Are you alright?)

"Ich bin fein jetzt. Ich kann es nicht erklären. Wir werden später reden." (I'm fine now. I can't explain it. We'll talk later.)

Confused, Santos stood and addressed his visitors cautiously

"Gentlemen. Welcome.... I think. You are Henri Michel?"

Mac leaned in and whispered in Jarod's ear. The younger man delivered the message to Santos.

"Mesr. Michel extends his apologies if you were confused. As an attaché he speaks many languages. He often switches into something other than French when he does not wish his words to be understood by others."

"I see. Please, take seats gentlemen and we can get the interview started."

Once all the participants were settled, Mac went through the whisper routine again.

"My employer asks if you speak French. Being fairly new to his position, English is one language he is not yet fluent in and he prefers to avoid possible misunderstandings..."

"I'm happy to accommodate the attaché. Whatever will make him comfortable."

"We can proceed, then. Merci."

" Bien sûr. Maintenant s'il vous plaît, demander vos questions.... " (Of course. Now please, ask your questions....)

ONE HOUR LATER

As the two friends dropped off the rented limo and climbed back into Mac's jeep, Jarod was forced to postpone their departure in order to calm MacGyver, who was curled into himself and shaking like a leaf. For several minutes, Jarod patted and rubbed his friend's shoulders, but despite the comfort being provided Mac leapt from the vehicle, ran to the edge of the parking lot and vomited into the dirt and scrub grass. Jarod crouched beside him, supporting the other man and speaking soothingly.

"You did fine, Mac. It's over now. You're okay...."

"No... I mean... I am. It's not that.... God, what have you done to me...."

"I don't understand."

"What you've been showing me.... it must've opened me up.... more than either of us knew. Walking into that room.... I... I've never felt anything like that before. It hit me like a... a punch in the gut. There was a smell... almost like a natural gas leak... but nastier. I was nauseous the whole time we were in there. I don't know if I can stand to go back into that office, Kyle... you didn't tell me this was part of... of being a Pretender...."

"It isn't. At least... it never has been for me. I'm sorry, MacGyver. If I'd known I never would have put you in that situation."

"You couldn't have predicted that, Kyle. Don't beat yourself up, okay?" Mac replied, slowly straightening up. As he helped him back to the jeep, Jarod continued to apologize.

"I should have known. Your gift is stronger than mine. If I had taken the time to think it through, I would have realized a stronger gift means greater sensitivity...."

"Kyle... stop. It wasn't your fault. Let's just go back to the house. I'm gettin' better, but being further from Santos will speed the process even more. Man, my mouth tastes like I've been licking a sewer outflow pipe. Let's stop somewhere for a bottle of water before we get home."

"No problem." Jarod told him, starting the engine and pulling out of the lot.

"Mac, that's your second beer in less than an hour. Slow down."

"It is? Damn... " MacGyver murmured, staring fixedly at the empty bottle in his hand before placing it carefully on the breakfast bar. "I don't do that.... it's just I can't make sense of this. I'm used to being able to see the patterns, the shapes that make things work. Then I can get behind or underneath.... figure it from the inside out. There is no pattern here. There's nothing I can get a handle on...."

Gently, Jarod dropped his hands on Mac's shoulders and squeezed.

"I know. Go sit on the couch, alright? I have something that might help you calm down."

"I don't need to calm down. I need to understand...."

"No, right now you need the de-stress. Go sit."

MacGyver conceded the battle, walked across the room and dropped heavily onto the sofa. Jarod was back in a few minutes with a small gray leather case. Sitting beside Mac, he opened the holder to reveal a series of small vials, each tucked into their own pouch. Selecting one, he popped the cover with a thumbnail and handed it to his friend. "Hold it close to your face and take three slow, deep breaths through your nose."

"Aromatherapy? You've got to be joking..."

"Trust me, this worked wonders on someone a lot more wound up than you are."

His expression radiating disbelief, Mac took the vial carefully and did as Jarod had instructed. The first breath didn't bring any noticeable shift in his body or mind, but with the second inhalation he could feel his muscles begin to loosen and his stomach settle into a more normal state. By the time he'd released his third deep draught of air, Mac was sinking back against the couch cushions, eyes closed and his brow clear of stress lines.

"Wow.... if I ever doubt you again, you have permission to smack me in the back of the head. Really hard." He replied, handing the vial back.

"Not necessary. Why risk your incredible mind? I'll just force-feed you a pint of "Hagen-Dazs"." Jarod chuckled.

"Deal. What other magic have you got in there, anyway?"

"Formulas for reducing physical pain, relieving mild depression, increasing energy...."

"Where'd you ever find them?"

"I didn't. A friend taught me about herbs and showed me how to create my own blends."

"Boy, he taught you well."

"He'd be glad to hear that. Now, how's your thinking? Any clearer?"

"Yeah, it is. Amazing...."

"Then let's start talking about what happened to you today."

"Okay...."

"Miss Parker."

The young woman's shoulders and neck instantly knotted when the hated voice sounded behind her. Stopping in the middle of the corridor, she turned on her heel, schooling her expression into a picture of calm and respect before she faced her new employer.

"Major Hilliard. What can I do for you?"

"Your job. I need to see progress in the search for our missing property and I need to see it soon. The Triumverate won't be patient much longer."

"Jarod has completely dropped out of sight, sir. The only way we were ever able to track him at all was by virtue of the clues and items he sent and the media reports of his Pretends. He hasn't done either one in months..."

"That makes your job a little harder, but it doesn't make it impossible. Step up your game to the next level, Miss Parker, or you'll find yourself off this pursuit altogether. Losing that prestige would leave you very... vulnerable within the Centre. That's a state you do not want to find yourself in. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes... sir."

"I hope so. Get back to work."

Seething, shocked that steam had not begun pouring from her ears, Parker waited until she was sure Hilliard was out of earshot before she allowed herself to release a little of her rage, though it only showed in her face and in the hard slap she delivered to the nearest wall.

{Property?! He's not a stapler somebody took home in their briefcase, you son of a bitch.... oh, if I could have blown you away and gotten by with it, you'd have been dead weeks ago....}


End file.
